


For A Better World

by ketsumodoki



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gang Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Semi-Slow Burn, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-01-05 02:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18356687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketsumodoki/pseuds/ketsumodoki
Summary: Approached by a desperate Sombra, Symmetra abandons all she knows and what she thought was the truth to help build the world she wants.working title and descriptionOn Hiatus Because I'm Not Sure How to Continue





	1. Meeting

Symmetra’s eyes scanned the Brazilian slum. It was a dull mix of browns and grays and oranges, skewed to the left with a tin roof and omnic parts shoved into various corners. In clumps, grass grew in impossible crevices. She spent a few minutes collecting the omnic parts and setting them in uncomfortably large boxes.

The people who lived in this favela had been gone since that morning. Vishkar has doled out enough money amongst them to survive for a week or two-and buy back their old homes (a practice leaving a sour taste in Symmetra’s mouth). After the company’s reputation was damaged following the scandals in Lúcio Correia dos Santos’ neighbourhood, they actually fulfilled some of their promises.   


Symmetra still felt distrustful towards them, but she had no other choice-

-An incoming call from Sanjay interrupted her thoughts. 

“How long with this favela take to complete?” There was laughter and music in the background, and she heard Sanjay tell someone he would be back soon. 

“I will be done by Thursday. Is there anything else I need to finish today?”

“No.” Sanjay said, and hung up. 

The sun was half-way down the shy as another part of the favela burst into flame. Symmetra kept her ears covered and watched the section become ash before beginning her own work. 

The light seemingly morphed into whatever shape she wanted. She diligently worked to create hollow, square apartments waiting to be turned into real homes to be filled with real people. The texture of the walls and floors made her skin crawl. Symmetra repeated the process until the moon was high in the sky, obscured by clouds, and the demolations had long stopped. 

She loaded the box of parts into a rental car and drove into the city as the radio quietly played. Bright billboards advertised Lúcio Correia dos Santos’ début album,  _ Synasthesia Auditiva _ , as what felt like hundreds of different types of music blared from outside, contributing to noise pollution. Symmetra stared at the buildings she helped design and create reflect the vibrant nightlife of Rio de Janeiro. Slowly, she found herself appreciating the rhythm of the city. 

She parked near a flashing parking kiosk and quickly changed into a less obvious outfit. She hoisted one of the boxes and used it as a shield to block out the light as she made her way through the crowd. She nudged the door open to a grimey shop, a clunky and outdated omnic attending the front task. 

“I want to exchange some scrap metal.”

The omnic opened a door and motioned for Symmetra to enter before bowing. The room was equally as grimey and incense burned in the corner. Symmetra tried to ignore it as she stood. 

The person, with scraggly hair and orange goggles, ripped the box from her hands and begin digging through it. After a moment, they pulled out a stack of bills. “2787 reais for this. See you tomorrow.”

Symmetra drove back to the hotel in silence, the only sounds her own breathing and the gentle hum of the engine. Her hotel had sparkling floors and twinkling chandeliers, crème coloured couches and a coffee bar tended to by a soft spoken and  _ cute  _ omnic, all near her room. A warm shower and take out later, she drifted off to sleep. 

Wednesday was much like Tuesday, except now other workers took her place, filling her building with all the necessities modern life required. Thursday was much the same, finishing the entire favela when the sky was purple and orange.

Symmetra now scanned the area, proud of her work. The white buildings shone and she thought, pleased, about the people who would now have real homes. As she was observing the area for a final time, a call interrupted. It was from Sanjay. 

His words were quick and Symmetra heard gentle singing in her native Hindi, “Are you done with the slums?”

“Yes.”

Now, Sanjay’s voice was irritated, “Return to your room immediately. There has been a security breach-”

“-that guy really gets on my nerves,” Symmetra turned on her heel and readied her photon projector. A woman similar in age appeared from within neon purple circuits and grinned at her, “Hola.”

Symmetra composed herself, “You are not supposed to be here. This is Vishkar property.”

“I’ve heard some interesting things about your employers, Ms. Vaswani,” The woman said, her eyes shining with mischief. 

Symmetra’s grip on her projector tightened, “ _ What _ have you heard?” 

The woman walked around her in a circle and pulled up holo screens from her fingertips. 

“Please do not do that,” Symmetra said, her anxiety building up. The woman thankfully stopped. 

“How they practically use their architects like slaves, how they bully people into their contracts,” She tapped Symmetra’s nose, “How they’re planning to do the same with LumériCo-which I weakened.” 

“You are part of the Sombra collective?”

The woman smirked, “I  _ am  _ Sombra.”

“Impossible,” She backed away from her, “Someone would have told me-”

“-They don’t tell you a lot of things, amiga.” The woman-Sombra-said. Symmetra watched in amusement as she brought pages and documents on her screens: LumériCo data, Sanjay with known Talon operatives, classified Vishkar files even she had not seen, and Symmetra at the destroyed favela, carrying the little girl to safety.

She studied the images, searching for any indication a photo was edited. She couldn’t find any and pointed to the final photo, “How did you get this?”

“It’s just what I do,” Sombra smiled mysteriously, “See how they’re lying to you?”

Symmetra retorted, “This is merely an attempt to convince me to work with you. Vishkar is doing good work for the good of all humanity.”

“You don’t believe that, amiga, do you? I’ve been watching you as you’ve defied Sanjay, like you’re doing now,” She changed the last photo to one showing Symmetra selling the omnic parts.

She frowned, “You have been stalking me.”

“I prefer to call it ‘secret investigation.’” 

“You are trying to blackmail me, so what do you want?” She begin to lift her projector. 

Sombra tilted her head to the right, “For you to work with me, amiga. To help me take down Vishkar.”

“I have no reason to help you,” Symmetra sniffed, loading boxes of parts,  “Vishkar is providing a way for a better world.”

Sombra stared at the city in the distance, “Vishkar kills innocent people to get their way-”

“-As do you and Talon.”

“At least we don’t lie about it. Vishkar exploits their employees and local people: like they did here, and in India, and what they’re going to do in Mexico. That’s my home.” Her expression plead with Symmetra. 

She watched as the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the city burst into light, “You only want to help Mexico. Why should I help you when you never tried to ‘help’ the others?”

Sombra’s face was crestfallen, “Please.”

“I will help,” Symmetra petulantly stared at her, “Because I do not like how Vishkar has become corrupted over the years.” 

The mexican woman’s face lit up and Symmetra  was confused on the abnormal feeling in her chest, “Amiga, they’ve always been corrupted. You can change that and change Vishkar into what it should be-as long as I get a say in it.” 

“I have taken that under advisement,” She frowned.

Symmetra liked that idea. She liked thinking about being the leader of hard-light research, of upholding the peace and order that she idolised. More importantly, she liked the idea of Vishkar receiving swift retribution for their crimes.   


“Now what?” 

Sombra smirked and tapped her nose, “I’ll keep in touch. Boop!”

And she was gone in an instant, as though she had never been there. 


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks passed without without even a hint of Sombra’s existence. Symmetra continued her work diligently, her thoughts occupied by debating whether to let Sombra lead her down a dangerous, unknown path or tell the highest authority in Vishkar what she knew (which was, to be fair, not much). She spent long and lonely nights wondering how either path would change her life.

Symmetra let out a sigh and turned on her side. For weeks, it seemed, she couldn’t properly go to sleep. She yawned and stared at the ceiling, her arm draped over her stomach. She felt restless and then-

_-brriiing!_

A piercing call broke the silence. Symmetra groaned and covered her ears. She realised ignoring it was futile and picked it up, bracing herself for a robocall in portuguese.

 _“Hola!”_ She almost wished it had been a robocall. Almost.

Symmetra looked at the time, “It is nearly midnight.”

“Not even a hello?” chuckled Sombra, “Harsh.”

“Hello.” She said promptly.

She heard shuffling and something being knocked over. Symmetra sat up, fishing for clothing in her suitcase. It was obvious to her that Sombra wanted to do something.

“How did you get my number?”

“It was easy enough to find in the company directory,” Sombra replied.

“Vishkar does not have a public employee directory,” She said, confused. She slipped out of her trousers and tensed at the cool air brushing past her legs.

Sombra chuckled again, “I never said it was public.”

“If you have already hacked into the company’s files then I see no reason why you would need my help.”

“There are some things even I can’t hack into,” The mexican woman murmured, “The things you designed.”

Symmetra’s brow furrowed, “I never designed the security systems. I was told my designs were too stiff and too predictable. Others were selected for that job.”

Sombra paused. She heard shuffling once more, and a low _oomph!_ as the woman fell on someone. “The designs match what you’ve made.”

Symmetra hummed in thought.

“Anyway,” Said Sombra after a while, “I’m still learning how to hack hard light.”

“Vishkar uses hard light in our security…? I did not even know that it could be used in security. Why was I never told?” Symmetra felt angry-as a top architect, she should’ve been informed!

There was a strange tone in her voice as Sombra spoke, “There’s a lot of things they don’t tell you, _amiga_. See why I need your help?”

“No, but I am willing to help. Did you only call for this conversation?”

Sombra chuckled. Symmetra noted she did it often and about things that weren’t funny. “Of course not. See you in 20.”

“How do you know where I am staying?” She wasn’t paying that much attention, too focused on trying to understand why her help was wanted or needed.

“The same way I know your number.”

She frowned, “You are a stalker.”

“I prefer ‘private investigator.’”

Symmetra hung up and placed her phone on a pillow. She lay on her bed in the foetal position, staring at the ceiling. Her mind raced in perplexion.

A knock broke her from her haze.

“Hey,” Sombra said as Symmetra opened the door. She muttered a reply.

“It is late.”

“I know." 

“Then why did you come here?” Symmetra frowned.

“We need to track someone down,” Sombra held her hands out in mock surrender, “Someone known for buying and selling scrap metal A very reliable source said they would know something.”

Symmetra nodded, “I know where to start.”

“ _De pelos_.”

She observed herself in the mirror after placing her visor on her head. It was obvious she was a Vishkar employee-would that be a disadvantage?

Sombra lead them to her car. It was a black sports car, the interior leather branded with a stylised sugar skull. Rainbow dice hung from the front-view mirror. Symmetra toyed with them as Sombra started the car.

“I have only seen these in old American movies,” She mentioned, leaning to get a closer look, “They are often not multi-coloured.”

“They’re a gift from some old friends.” The mexican woman wistfully looked at the dice and jerked the car forward. They speeded down the road with a piercing screech, Sombra laughing in exhilaration.

The sudden warmth in her chest confused Symmetra.

She should have guessed someone like Sombra would be a reckless driver. Sombra was impulsive and quick to force the vehicle to perform nearly impossible feats. Symmetra had to practically weld herself to her seat as she pointed out where to go.

In this part of Rio de Janeiro where grime and memoirs of the omnic crisis pervaded, they stuck out like nail. A few pair of eyes watched them as they walked closer to the Scrap Collector’s shop.

“This area is one of primary interest for Vishkar,” Symmetra gestured around, “But the probability of being allowed to work here is low. Even of our offers were approved, the gangs here would find a way to stop development.”

Sombra chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face, “Like Los Muertos.”

“Were you a member of Los Muertos? The reports of both the Sombra Collective and Los Muertos coincided.”  

“I won’t confirm or deny it.”

“So you were,” Symmetra nodded, “Thank you for answering.”

Sombra began to sputter, but she was paid no mind. They were almost there.

The decrepit shop was devoid of both lock and persons. The door was coated in a sticky substance and opened with a (relatively) gentle kick. Symmetra shone a light on it. It was the same colour as dried blood.

They exchanged glances and continued in. The omnic was missing and the front hall looked like a tornado had swept through it. Sombra bent down and picked something up, running her fingers over it. It flickered purple for a moment.

“An omnic head,” She said, noticing Symmetra staring.

“One works here, but it could easily be spare parts. We might find something interesting in the office.”

The office was also a mess. Several boxes had been tipped over, their were claw marks on the walls, and blood dripped down the Scrap Collector’s chair.

“Who the fuck is able to do that except Gabe?”

“Gabe?”

Sombra’s eyes went wide and she shook her head, “Nobody. Looks like we weren’t wanted here.”

There was a flickering torch discarded on the ground next to an overturned box with the same claw marks. Symmetra peered inside after reading the name written in loopy handwriting: Annie.

Gang paraphernalia was the majority of the box. They ranged from a bandana to a shirt too faded to read. A small, obviously cheap urn’s lid had been knocked off, charcoal ashes spilling over police reports. It felt wrong to do so, but Symmetra gently brushed the ashes back into the urn and picked up the reports.

The top report held paperclipped photos of a younger Scrap Collector and a young woman with electric blue hair at her side. They smiled wildly in their mugshots, eyes wide and faces flushed. They had matching tattoos-or branding-on their collarbones. The little of the report she was able to read revealed they were the only ones caught after a robbery and they wouldn’t talk. Annie’s father bailed them out a few days later.

The second file was sadder. It was torn and tear damaged and its contents were carefully arranged. It was the gruesomely detailed murder of Annie Barbosa. She had been beaten to death with the words “Being a traitor carries a price” carved into her abdomen. It made Symmetra sick. Stapled to the back of the folder was a plastic bag holding two wedding rings.

She shut the folder and called out to Sombra, “The Scrap Collector may have been abducted. Come look.”

“This was a few years ago, _amiga_ ,” She pointed out as she skimmed through, “You really think they’d wait this long?" 

Symmetra nodded, “People often wait a long time to enact revenge.”

“We need to find out more! This is the only lead we have!” Hissed Sombra.

They heard a laugh echo and swiveled towards it. An omnic stood in the door frame, scratches covering its body and a hand missing. It had the same brand stamped on its collar that the Scrap Collector and Annie had.

“I can help you. Question is,” It grinned, “But what can you offer me in return?”

 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, I'll hopefully update it within a week or two. Tell me what you think :)


End file.
